Cliché // a.i.

six

Hello, hello, hello! I hope you like this update! Sorry for the short chapters, it just adds to the dramatic effect of the story. That's why I upload two at a time. Okay, happy reading guys! - Jess (:

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Sunday, September 7th, 2014

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I ended up waiting a whole hour for Ashton to show up for our date. He apologized profusely, and picked up the tab for his tardiness. He also invited me to the sorority/fraternity party tonight as part of his apology.

Cliché.

Because people like me don't get invited to places by people like him, unless it's a book or a movie.

This is real life, not some fantasy tale.

I spent ages pulling on different shirts, trying to find the right look. Good thing Julie had work all day, or I would've never heard the end of it. I finally pick my Docs, a frayed Journey shirt, and my black skinny jeans.

May as well go edgy so that I stand out in the sea of sluts that will be there.

Ashton called me at 6 and told me to come outside my dorm. He's pulled up in a cherry red, old school convertible. His aviators and leather glasses made him look like a complete douche.

A cute douche though.

When I slipped in to the seat next to him, I couldn't help but think that we might actually make a cute couple.

The party was uneventful; the music pounding, the drunks drinking. I didn't run in to Julie, thank God. Ashton kept a beer in one hand, and his arm slung over my shoulder the entire night. It felt like I belonged. His eyes darkened the more he drank, and we nearly kissed after we'd stumbled to the car together and I offered to drive us both home.

Cliché, cliché, cliché.

Julie didn't get home until three in the morning, and I had to get her changed and put her to bed. She managed to sober up enough to ask about my new boyfriend. I told her that he's "not my boyfriend," and that "he's just a friend from school."

Now I'm hiding under my duvet with a flashlight, trying not to wake her while I write in this damn journal.